


Slytherin!Hermione

by EllieMarchetti



Series: Harry Potter AUs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMarchetti/pseuds/EllieMarchetti
Summary: How would things have gone if Hermione had been sorted in Slytherin?





	1. The Magical Child

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were normal parents, with normal jobs and a normal life. They were loving and caring, and they never missed their daughter’s school plays nor her dance recital. Hermione loved them but they didn't knew she wanted something different, not a flat, monotonous life where the greatest adventure was going to the beach once a month despite the weather, but an existence full of exciting experiences and always new discoveries, which would overwhelm her unbridgeable thirst for knowledge. But, for her misfortune, her parents were the last people in the world you could expect to be dealing with strange or mysterious things; they liked documentary and old movies, and listen to their daughter reading her books out loud, impersonating each character like she was the only actress in a theatrical representation. Furthermore they owned a dental practice, which made everyone think the only daughter would follow their footsteps and become a dentist, and she would’ve done it, because, after all, being the owner of a modest dental practice wasn’t that bad, although already at the age of eleven, Hermione considered it the most boring job in the world. But she would have done it, for no other reason than to not disappoint her parents; she hated even the idea to made them somehow sad and her mom always seemed so proud when she told her friends about her interest in the medical field that it would break her heart to know the truth. Sure, she would have done it while dreaming for something different, more exciting, but she would have done it, because, when you’re _nearly_ eleven, like her father liked to remind her, the only think you’re supposed to want is to be like your parents. She would have done it if strange things didn’t started to happen in the 1990′s summer, the first on 19 July, two months before from her birthday. She was at the beach with her parents and she spotted a corpulent and wiry man with a long bread that made it seem like he had no neck. He had a long pair of mustaches too that seemed to be smooth and curled up again without needing him to touch them. It was nothing, compared to what happened next, but in retrospect, with the clarity that only the understanding of something that was believed impossible can give, this was the very beginning of everything.

The next strange thing happened when she was coming back from the library. It was one of the few places where her parents let her go without accompany her, due to the fact that it was only one block away from their dental practice and that it was a pretty secure block. Furthermore, Hermione seemed older than her age and they wanted her to be independent as soon as possible, because she dreamed to go to a summer camp, when she would have started secondary school. She saw this strange woman, and, in her eyes, she seemed to shine with a particular light, making her different from all the other passers-by. It wasn’t her physical appearance: she was thin and her neck looked more giraffe-like than it actually was thanks to the fluffy blonde short bob, so she looked almost like all the middle-aged women of the UK, and not even her clothes, even though the dress’ factory was a little too eccentric for her tastes. Hermione didn’t like to call herself a nosy girl, nor she had ever felt that way, yet she slowed her pace and followed with her gaze the woman who literally disappeared into a shadowy alley. The girl barely noticed that, in her place, a sphinx with a precious pearl collar, just like the necklace the woman wore, had appeared.

The third, strange thing happened a month after the mysterious disappearance of the woman in the alley. Hermione was at her parents’ best friend’s house. The couple were really boring and due to the fact that he was a plastic surgeon and his wife was his pretty and empty secretary, Hermione had permission, when they went to visit them, to close herself in their boring but extremely well-stocked personal library, to settle comfortably on one of the soft sofas and immerse herself in her favorite world, that was between stiff and dusty covers, imprinted in small dark typefaces on pages that would inevitably turn yellow. Sometimes, when the conversation between doctors was too technical for her to understand, the homeowner put her head into the library, asking Hermione what she was reading or whether she liked something to drink or eat. It rarely happened that woman entered more than two, maximum three times, and usually she went away quickly. That day, however, conversations in the other room had to be truly incomprehensible to a simple mind like hers, as she had been visiting Hermione five times. At first, Hermione had reacted as always, telling her that she would like a glass of cold tea, with a slice of lemon and ice, just to make her absence longer and allow her parents to quickly change the subject. When she returned, Hermione had kindly asked if they had ice cream: no one was allowed to eat in the library but she was an exception. The woman had returned with an elegant little bowl and a miserable vanilla ice-cream ball inside. Hermione had thanked, understanding how that woman could be so thin, even though she had been over her thirties. To Hermione, the thirtieth birthday seemed an unattainable goal, yet in novels, at thirty life didn’t seem to be over, only at a time when the slow and inexorable changes of adulthood were beginning to be evident even in third parties’ eyes.

Hermione felt like she was the only one in the entire England to hate vanilla ice cream: it was too sweet, and in summer she wanted something refreshing, not a dessert made to make her parents richer. Therefore, she ate just a few spoons than she put the bowl on one of the antique tables that enriched the already lavish furnishings of the library. That couple had everything they could wish for and more, every stupid luxury, every little madness they wanted to do, they could afford it. Hermione, however, found it extremely sad: the only thing she wanted in life couldn’t be bought, not even with the entire Queen’s money.

“Sorry if I interrupt again” said Mrs. Smith acute voice, tearing her from her thoughts of self-pity. Hermione wanted to throw the bowl, full of melted ice cream, at her face. She just wanted to read and escape from reality before the start of her first secondary school year. She knew if she still wanted to have excellent grades, she had to study harder than she ever done in primary school, so she wanted to relax during the summer.

“I saw you’re reading Matilda and I though you could like Frederica. It’s a bit old, I know, but it was my favorite book when I was younger.” she said, giving her a nearly destroyed copy. Hermione smiled a little, thinking that maybe, when she was younger and she didn’t discovered that much makeup yet, she was someone like her. A little more romantic and silly, based on her reading tastes, but still someone she could have liked to spend time with.

“You can bring it home and give it back to me when you come visit us again, just promise me to return it.” said, with the softest smile her face let her have. Her features was so pointed and her lips were really thin, despite her enormous front teeth.

“I promise” she said, trying to keep to herself a pissed comment on the fact that she had already read that book and didn't liked it that much; it reminded her of Jane Austen’s plots but for the whole time it took her to read it she wasn’t scared for the character’s well-being so she ended up finishing it in nearly a week despite having nearly 400 pages.

The fifth time Mrs. Smith entered the room, Hermione rolled her eyes so hard: she was at the part where Matilda reveals her powers to Miss Honey and she wanted to end it without any sort of interruption, but it wasn’t what was on the woman’s mind. Hermione didn’t raised her head when she heard the door open but she knew it was Mrs. Smith. She jumped on the sofa, however, when the women started screaming. Hermione never saw something like that: all the books was floating in the room, making her the center of their creepy slow dance. The girl was frozen, everything was the most wrong type of wrong. Things didn’t float in real life, not when there’s no trick behind it.

“What…” Hermione clearly heard Mr. Smith started to talk, but he froze, like his wife, the books, and the ice cream bowl, which was a few inches away from a very expensive Persian carpet.

“You should have noticed sooner.” said a female voice she was sure she never heard before. It was coming from the kitchen, and despite she was scared for her parents, Hermione didn’t moved. She was terrified by Mrs. Smith’s immobility. She almost didn’t breathe, as if she was petrified. “Sybill warned you about a Muggleborn girl with great powers. She said…”

Someone made the women shut up: “We can’t know if this is the girl she was talking about. There’s only one way to discover it and is with time and patience. I don’t want to put on another teenager’s shoulder a weight heavier than she’s able to carry.” a male voice said. Based on the tone, Hermione supposed it was someone older than the woman that was talking before.

“Let me take a look at this mess…” the woman muttered, and Hermione heard the sound of her rhythmic steps approaching. She wore heels, probably, which ticked on the marble floor like the hands of a clock ready to mark the moment of judgment.

When the women entered the room, avoiding the petrified figure of Mrs. Smith like the plague, she seemed impressed, like the floating books and the ice cream bowl nearly flipped upside down on a priceless value carpet were positive things. The woman didn’t take long to meet her hallucinated gaze. Hermione didn’t move, probably even stopped breathing, praying that the intruder believed she had been petrified too. Her face was stern, and yet in her eyes there was a light so understanding that made Hermione believe this was only a dream, that she fell asleep on her parents’ best friends’ sofa while reading. Then, suddenly, she smiled at her in the same way her grandmother used to do when she found out she was making some complex prank at someone else’s expenses. She held her index finger to her mouth, and for a moment Hermione wasn’t afraid, because it meant that together they would share a secret, like two children revealing, hidden under the kindergarten tables, those that seem to them to be very serious mischief. And then, without saying something or moving her hands, things started to come back in their places, in a dance that reminded her of The Sword in the Stone, when Merlin put his hovel in order with his magic.

“Everything done, here” said the male voice. Hermione widened her eyes. She didn’t know if that woman’s companion would be as benevolent as she was.

The women extracted something from her floating cloak, and for a moment, she was afraid it might be a gun, and she began to fear for her parents again. However, in the next room, she had heard no odd shots or noises of any kind. The woman, blatantly moved in a completely measured way a wooden stick that she held in her hands. It was of two different colors, with a finely worked handle, and it resembled the chopsticks she had imagined using the magicians of the books she loved most.

“Oblivion” whispered the woman, pointing the wand at Mrs. Smith head. She didn’t turned to watch Hermione again and the girl stood silent when the couple started talking again, till the time started again, and Mrs. Smith looked at Hermione, confused.

“I didn’t recall why I’m here…” she whispered to herself, looking around. In her eyes there was something different from the usual, as if she had just woken up.

“Why are you standing?” asked the women, perplexed.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” lied Hermione, nearly running away from the room and the woman’s inquisitive look.

They left the house less than half an hour later and in the backseat, Hermione studied her parents’ expression. They looked like Mrs. Smith, as if their eyes were kneaded with sleep. They all forgot what happened, Hermione was sure. However, she wasn’t sure about why it all happened and why she was the only one who wasn’t frozen in time and who can remember. She had a theory about the last part: she saw the woman with the cloak point her wand at Mrs. Smith head and maybe what she whispered was an order, but she didn’t do the same to her, so maybe she could remember because she did wanted her to. However, how someone could delete someone else’s memories with only a word was a mystery to her. Some theorized that it could be done with hypnosis but to Hermione it looked like a real nag. Furthermore, what the woman did to Mrs. Smith didn’t seemed like hypnosis. She needed to investigate and she wanted to start to do it right when she would have arrived home.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Hermione being Hermione on her first trip to Diagon Alley

The letter arrived on August 27, proving what she had already supposed and leaving her five days before the day she had to take the train and go to whatever-land. Her parents were more excited than her, asking what this or that thing was supposed to be and what use it could have so they decided, exactly as Hermione would have done, to buy all the book first. New copies of Miranda Gradula’s _Book of Spells_ and Bathilda Bath’s _History of Magic_ were devoured in a matter of a couple hours for each one and everyone in the house agreed that they had never read anything as exciting in Muggle novels, partly also because they knew that this time it was all true and not the result of the author’s fervid imagination. It was like a dream. She found what happened to her in _Theory of Magic_ and she understood why her parents and specially the Smiths had to be oblivated for their security. In Diagon Alley, she noticed that everyone was dressed like the woman with the long neck who became a sphinx or the man with the enormous bread at the beach, and she felt as her parents were out of place, though she would never have told them, while the kids, instead, wore normal things, or at least most of them; she spotted a strangely dressed guy in the bookstore while she was picking her copy of Emeric Switch’s _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration _but it was an exception_. _Flourish and Blott’s was the store she loved the most, but she liked Madam Malkin’s tailoring shop too; after all, she was a girl and she always liked to wear the school uniform when she was in London. She still was, to be true, but in what it seemed a hidden dimension, accessible only to witches and wizards. Her parents had a special permission to go to Diagon Alley since no one else in the family, at least no one who was still alive, had magical powers and can bring her here. The third day they brought a cauldron, a nice scale to weigh potion ingredients and a brass-folding telescope. To Hermione, they all looked like museum objects. They left the wand last, perhaps because even her Muggle parents had understood how much that was the most important element for a witch. They went to Ollivander, who seemed to be the best seller of magic wands, and as soon as Hermione saw the golden sign, she began to feel a certain excitement: that was the last step before making her being a witch a definitive, immutable fact, or at least, so it seemed to her. She was disappointed to notice that the shop was dirty and cramped, the window was bare and dusty, and the only furniture was a chair with slender legs that didn’t seem able to hold the weight of her mother, and she was a thin woman. She felt an uncomfortable sensation, as if she had entered a private library where he had not been allowed to stay but given what she has read in History of Magic about what some wizards thought of Muggleborns, she almost felt guilty about feeling that way. Surely, once she got to Hogwarts, she would have been proud of her origins, it didn’t matter what they would say about her, yet in that place, that looked so much like a warehouse with all those boxes stacked tightly up to the ceiling, Hermione was full of questions, partly due to her thirst for knowledge, partly because of all the news that had struck her in a few days; despite she was still a child and had every right to have all those insecurities.

“Good afternoon.” said a soft voice, tearing her from her ruminations. The one who talked was an old man, with big, faded eyes that illuminated the darkness of the store like two moons in the night.

“Hi” replied Hermione, embarrassed. She felt behind her the look of her parents: they had taught her to address the adults more formally, but every thought had escaped her mind when those eyes had settled on her; they gave her goose bumps.

The man glanced at her parents, then, with a sad smile, said: “You must be the parents of this young witch and I didn’t get to know you before, so I guess you’re Muggles.”

Neither of them knew how to react to his words, so they stood silent, but the old man didn’t seemed offended. “I imagine this is a wonderful opportunity to start a new line of magicians and witches, but it’s a little too soon to start to think about it, isn’t it? Anyway, let me see…”

Ollivander extracted a long tape measure from the pocket of his funny and at the same time disquieting duster coat. “What is the arm with which you uses the wand?” he asked, and Hermione looked at him puzzled. She had never owned a wand before and assumed that even the Half-bloods or the Purebloods didn’t have one before starting school.

“I write with my right hand.” she simply answered.

“So raise your arm, like this.” he said, taking her wrist and moving it like a marionette. His movements were mechanical, as if he were so used to doing them that they were natural. Her parents hardly stiffened, but Hermione saw with the tail of the eye the shoulders of the mother relax as soon as the measurements were finished. No seller, in a Muggle shop, would ever allow himself to touch a child, but it had to be different there. Perhaps, the magical world was a better place.

“Each wand made by Ollivander has the core of a powerful magical substance: we use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and dragon heart cords. There are no wands built by Ollivander that are the same, just as there are no unicorns, dragons or two completely identical phoenix; they are living creatures, and as such they all have a small difference that makes the wand of another witch less powerful than your own.” Ollivander explained, giving them his back as he hovered across the shelves, pulling down boxes apparently at random. Hermione wanted to stop him, tell him that she already knew everything there was to know about wands.

"So, Miss, try this, beech wood and dragon-heart ropes, nine inches, beautiful and flexible. Take it and shake it in the air.”

Hermione took the wand, with a simple handle but with attention to detail. She almost laughed when she began to shake it: she felt like a baby girl with her own rattle. Ollivander almost snatched it from her.

“Beech and unicorn hairs, fourteen and a half inches, very flexible, try it.” he almost ordered her.

And Hermione did it, but once again she almost didn’t have time to raise it that Ollivander snatched it out of her hand, replacing it with the most beautiful wand she had ever saw: it was decorated to the point, with almost golden wood.

"Heart of phoenix feathers, eight and a half inches, elastic.”

Hermione didn’t know what to do. In the books, they said she should’ve felt something, like magic running through her fingers, but the wood looked cold and nothing came to her.

“Come on, try it!” Ollivander exclaimed, exasperated. However, nothing happened.

“A difficult young girl… maybe I could have an idea.” he said, before disappearing on the back. He returned with a different-looking box, yet Hermione was immediately attracted to it.

“Dragon heart vine and dragon heart rope, one of my most artistic creations.” he said, and for once Hermione had to agree with someone. The handle was a wonderful flowering creeper, and the light wood made her immediately imagine herself, older, with that wand in her hands and a powerful spell ready to be casted. As soon as she picked it up, she felt the much-desired warmth on her fingers. She raised it above her head and then lowered it abruptly, whipping the air, and a trail of shimmering green sparks emanated from the end like a firework, hissing. Mrs. Grander escaped a shout of enthusiasm, but Ollivander didn’t seem to notice while clapping his hands, perhaps more pleased with his creation than with Hermione’s capabilities, then complimented her. After all, that Ollivander wasn’t so unpleasant. They paid seven galleons for the wand, and as they left, Ollivander greeted them with a bow from behind the counter. Hermione didn’t believe a wand cost so much. She wondered how the poorer wizards could afford an education. She would’ve informed herself. It was late afternoon and the sun was low on the horizon when the Grangers set out on their way home, retracing back Diagon Alley. Along the way, Hermione didn’t said a word. She tried to avoid passers-by’s looks, astounded by the objects they were carrying in the subway tunnel, and went up the escalators almost in a hurry. Back to normal people, she was already starting to feel out of place. Why did everyone look at the cauldron like that? Why did she liked it so much to buy the telescope, feeling like a modern Galileo, when those people would find it just an eccentric thing? Why was she different from her parents? And was it right that she was? A child was supposed to be with their parents all the time and she agreed to go away for most of the year. Even her parents remained silent all the time; they had to be dazed by all the news, but most of all, they had begun to feel the split that was inevitably separating them from their daughter.


	3. Platform 9 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione unexpectedly makes friends with people who couldn't be more different on the Hogwarts Express

The last day Hermione spent with her parents, who were in a strange mood, partly apprehensive, partly sad, wasn’t funny at all: she finished Phyllida Spore’s _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and started the enormous, and a little boring, since it was like reading a cookbook and never trying any recipe, _Magical Drafts and Potions_. Obviously that morning she had no intention of closing herself in the solitude of her room to study but the whole scene of her parents who silently tried to be stoic to don’t show the pain of the first separation was depressing. They were so happy when the letter had arrived, why now they seemed to want to let her go just to do her a favor? Were they not thrilled with all the possibilities that the school would open her? They weren’t happy that she could learn something that was forbidden to most people? The answers all seemed negative, and that’s how she came to study about the Antidote to Common Poison. She glanced at Matilda and Frederica, abandoned on the bedside table. Now that the suitcase was ready, full of alien things, Hermione felt the need to slip them in secretly. She was sorry for Mrs. Smith, but after the spell of that witch, who must have been very powerful judging by the speed with which she had arranged her disaster, she probably wouldn’t even remember having lent her the book. And then, she could always give it back to her during the Christmas holidays. Hermione would certainly not remain at school during the time of the year she preferred. No, she would pack up and return just in time for decorate the house with her parents, prepare the Mince Pies and open the presents on Christmas morning. They would have been divided for only four months and the thought made her go to bed peaceful, though still excited enough to tick off her little calendar the last day that separated her from going to the magical world. She had always done that weird countdown without knowing what she was expecting. When she closed her eyes, she didn’t felt the need to put the calendar in her suitcase: she had finally reached the goal she didn’t even know she had, and she wanted the days until her return home to remain spotless.

The next morning, Hermione woke up around five, unable to sleep any further. She didn’t want to be late and also wanted everything to be ready and perfect for her departure. It took her more than usual to get ready; she combed her hair carefully, in a vain attempt to keep them in place, and while she was brushing her teeth, she looked at her innocent face in great details. She decided that since she had to start integrating, she would arrive at the station with one of the uniforms the school had suggested to buy.

At six o'clock she checked the Hogwarts material list once again, to make sure she had everything she needed, then she started walking around the room, waiting for her parents to wake up, although it wouldn’t have happened until an hour. Although she wanted to be able to continue reading the potions book she was too excited to sit and read and too agitated to do any other kind of activity, therefore she remained in trembling wait until, two hours later, her voluminous, heavy trunk was loaded into the car. She sat behind, like she always did, pretending to read while instead she was peering over her parents reaction, which was composed until they reached King’s Cross at half past ten. Her father had driven much slower than usual, perhaps to prolong that moment, the last semblance of normality before putting a trunk on one of the large disused trolleys and pushing it inside a station that hid a magical portal for a parallel dimension, but it was her mother’s reaction, which began to cry, that struck her most.

“Here we are.” said Mr. Granger, stopping halfway between platform nine and then, where, invisible beyond the red brick column, was the passage that would take her to the Hogwarts Express.

“So this is where we say goodbye?” Hermione asked awkwardly. It was a rhetorical question but she didn’t know how to react. Should she be the one who behaved like an adult in the situation? She never got an answer, but her mother nodded, and ran to hug her tightly. Her father wished her to have a good time and hold her too, perhaps even stronger than his wife. Hermione would have liked them to leave, get on their Muggle car and greet her from the window while driving back home. But as good parents as they were they didn’t do it, and waited for their daughter to direct her cart to the wall and cross it as described in History of Magic. When she did it the first thing he saw was a scarlet steam locomotive stationed along a track full of people. Hermione had seen so many families waiting for the train only during the Christmas holidays, when everyone was trying to get together with distant relatives for a dinner of fake smiles and horrible presents. Her mother claimed that Hermione was too cynical, especially for her age, but she also knew that this was the truth for most people. A sign at the head of the train said Hogwarts Express, at 11 a.m. Hermione turned back, and where before was the turnstile she saw a wrought iron arch, with Binary 9 ¾ written on it. She had done it. Her life as a witch would have begun, although in a place where people seemed totally unaware of the polluted air they were breathing; steam locomotives was no longer in use for a reason, in the Muggle world.

Cats of every color were wandering here and there among the people’s legs, owls called each other with their grim mumble, almost in a bad mood, overlooking the chatter and the noise of the heavy trunks that were dragged. Hermione only remembered at that moment that she still had the London station’s trolley, the Muggle one. If she was not a thief for taking Mrs. Smith’s book with her, surely she was because she had not left the trolley at the station she belonged to. Not that it was of particular importance, at that moment, with the first two carriages already jammed with students leaning out of the windows to talk to the family and the third about to fill up quickly. Hermione decided to avoid the entire crowd, and went straight to the fourth, where some guys were competing for a place next to a girl in the first year. She found the scene disgusting, and prayed that they weren’t all like that. In the corridor she passed by a round-faced boy, who, sighing loudly, seemed to be looking for something, helped by an older boy. Hermione pushed through the crowd until she found an empty compartment toward the train’s tail. She tried to load her luggage on the luggage rack, but she barely managed to lift it a couple of inches before it fell flat on the ground.

“Need a hand?” asked a male voice behind her, which made her wince. When she turned, she met the gaze of a black boy, who must have been a few years older than her, judging by the broad shoulders and the sought-after clothing. Hermione smiled and accepted, embarrassed. Dragging the trunk on the stairs of the train was one thing, but to load it over her head and push it on the net, where she barely arrived on her tiptoe, was very different, so she thanked the guy, who did the whole thing without showing the slightest sign of effort.

“Muggleborn, right?” the boy asked, totally at ease. Hermione nodded. She wanted to ask him if it make any difference but she was already exhausted and emptied of all kind of energy so it made no sense to get angry at a stranger who can still leave, if he wanted to.

“I imagined, I never saw you.” he explained. Hermione felt her shoulders relax. She didn’t want to have enemies just for being born from non-wizard parents.

“So I guess you don’t really know anyone.” he went on, trying to start a conversation.

“You’re right.” Hermione answered, really speaking for the first time.

“So they didn’t cut your tongue!” he exclaimed, and Hermione didn’t know whether to take it as a joke or be somehow offended. “Don’t worry, if you want company but you don’t want to talk, I’m a master in filling silence, my mother taught it to me.”

Hermione smiled, grateful that the charismatic boy had decided to embark on that long journey with her.

The train had left from a while, when the round-faced boy, with the most sad expression in the world, entered the compartment.

“Is that place busy?” he asked, pointing to the seat next to Hermione. She shook her head, then immediately resumed talking to Blaise.

“So they’re all wizards in your family?” Hermione asked, fascinated. Blaise nodded proudly.

“It’s wonderful, so you grew up in a house where magic reigned!” Hermione exclaimed. Blaise laughed.

“It sounds more exciting than it really is, but how it is to live with Muggles like?” asked Blaise, who returned Hermione’s interest in childhood stories.

“Imagine if someone took away every magic item you’ve got at home and replaced it with something inanimate. There are some merits, of course, like cinema, or television, but nothing compared to what you talk about.” she answered.

“Maybe I should go to Muggle studies class because I never heard about cinema or television.” he said, and they both laughed, although she thought it was a pity that the boy had never seen films like Back to the Future or Karate Kid. Furthermore she felt really sorry for the round-faced boy sitting next to her, who never talked since he arrived.

“What happened to you?” she asked, kindly. Even Blaise seemed interested in his misfortunes.

“I lost my toad.” he replied, without even looking Blaise in the eyes. He was shy, Hermione felt it when he entered the compartment, and she knew someone like Blaise could frighten a little someone who’s not that talkative or self-confident.

“You brought a toad to Hogwarts? “asked Blaise, amused.

“What’s wrong in a toad? The list said you can bring one as your pet.” said Hermione, ready to fight the guy.

“It’s been a long since toad were out of style, but I don’t judge. If you lost your toad and you really want him back we will help you find it.” said Blaise, with a kind smile. So the three of them split up, Blaise in the prefects’ compartments, which were off limits to anyone who hadn’t some acquaintance, Neville in the third and fourth wagons and Hermione at the tail. From the windows she could see that they had already left London and its outskirts behind and long pastures full of cows and sheep had taken the place of the gray buildings and paved roads. Hermione passed a smiling woman, with two big dimples on her cheeks, pushing a cart of sweets. The scent of pumpkin hit her nostrils, and a strong rumble in her stomach made her blush hardly. Although she had had breakfast, she was still hungry. First, though, she had to find Neville’s toad.

She met the boy when the countryside outside had become wilder, not even the shadow of the combed fields she previously saw. “How is your research going?” Hermione asked, although there was no need. His face had remained a big, depressed balloon.

“They don’t even listen to me …” Neville answered, saddened.

“Let me do it.” Hermione said, dragging him by the wrist into the compartments where he had already passed.

“Has anyone seen a toad?” and “My friend Neville has lost a toad, have seen one?” were the only phrases she repeated for half an hour, until she entered a compartment where two boys, who still didn’t wear their uniform, seemed to be trying to make magic. She decided to stop, intrigued. She, too, had tried some of the spells, simple ones, described in Book of Spells, and they all succeeded. Neville, instead, came back to their compartment. The redhead cleared his throat, raised his wands and said: “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” but nothing happened to the rat on his laps.

“Hermione!” called Blaise, approaching her. “I found Neville’s toad in the Prefect’s compartments, that frog loves to run away!”

The redhead and the dark haired guy shared a look when they saw the guy who was talking with Hermione, but she didn’t understood what it was supposed to mean.

“Want to come back with me at the compartment? I’ll help you with your luggage.” said Blaise, putting an end to her chatter with the famous Harry Potter.


	4. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get very Slytherin

Hogwarts was breathtaking, perched at the top of the mountain as if it had risen from the rocks with all the windows, that reflected in the Great Lake’s dark water, lighted. Hermione had read in her books that her school would be a castle, full of towers and turrets, but nothing could prepare her for something so impressive.

“Not more than four per boat.” warned the giant who was escorting them to the entrance. He had separated them from all the other students, and Hermione had discovered that Blaise was just a freshman, like her, despite his composure even before that sensational show. Maybe wizards were used to such visions, and if his parents were wizards they must have attended that school before him and told him every single detail until exhaustion, a bit like her parents when they talked about Lancaster University.

It was natural for Hermione to sit on the little boat with Blaise and Neville, who was now all smiling with his rescued toad. With them sat a boy with broad shoulders, muscular arms and short, bristly hair that reminded Hermione of the gorillas her parents used to watch on documentaries.

“Everybody on board?” the giant asked, with his thundering voice. Everyone tried to answer their own way, but it was impossible for the man to hear everyone. Anyway, he started the boats that left the shore, sliding on the lake as smooth as glass. All were silent on Hermione’s, and she noticed that the other students who were crossing the lake couldn’t take their eyes off the big castle that they would soon call home.

“Down the head!” the giant warned them when the first boats reached the cliff; all obeyed and the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that concealed a large opening on the front of the cliff itself. They passed through a long, dark tunnel, which seemed to carry under the castle, and finally reached what appeared to be an underground port where they climbed along a passage in the rock, preceded by the lamp of that good giant. When they finally emerged on the soft, damp grass at the foot of the castle, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She was accustomed to climbing in the parks with her parents, and Blaise also seemed completely at ease, but Neville was beginning to look tired and the other boy, who hadn’t even introduced himself, had a face red like a pepper. To be honest, he looked a little like that vegetable. They climbed the stone steps and crowded in front of the huge oak door. Hermione was so far behind that she couldn’t see the giant’s face, so she stood on her tiptoe, hoping to see some more details. Even so, she couldn’t reach Blaise’ stature, who reassured her she wasn’t missing anything special.

“We are all here?” the giant asked again, and the children still tried to respond in their own way. Satisfied, the man raised his big fist and knocked three times. The door swung open instantly, and a tall, raven-haired witch greeted them. Hermione was sure she had already seen her. She passed a curly haired boy and his stout, dirty blonde friend, dragging Blaise with her. The witch had a stern face, but Hermione knew that a good woman was hiding beneath that armor, although she looked like someone not to argue with; she was the same witch who hadn’t erased her memory about that afternoon at the Smiths’ house, and Hermione felt grateful she was one of the first faces she saw in the school. It felt like she wasn’t this far from home.

“These are the first-year students, Professor McGonagall.” said the giant.

“Thanks Hagrid.” the witch answered. So that was the name of their wandering guide. “From here on I’ll accompany them.” the woman went on, silently telling Hagrid he could leave, and threw open the door. The entrance hall was so large that Hermione’s whole house would fit comfortably in. The stone walls were lit by flaming torches and the ceiling was so high it could hardly be seen. In front of them, a sumptuous marble staircase led to the upper floors, but the thing that most caught Hermione’s attention was the buzz of hundreds of voices coming from a door on the right. Her future schoolmates must have already arrived, but the teacher didn’t took them there but in an empty room beyond the entrance hall, where they piled up, looking around, nervous. For the first time, Hermione understood how the animals should feel on intensive farms and was sorry for them.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” the professor said, interrupting the flow of her thoughts. “The banquet for the beginning of the school year will take place shortly, but before you take a seat in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. Sorting is a very important ceremony…”

Hermione stopped listening. She already knew all those things.

“The Sorting Ceremony will start in a few minutes, in front of all the other students, and in the meantime I suggest you to make yourselves as beautiful as you can.”

Hermione didn’t care too much about her appearance; she had made herself as beautiful as possible before taking the train and not much had changed since then. A chuckle, however, escaped her lips when the professor’s eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, tied under his left ear and on the dirty nose of the red-haired boy who had tried to make his mouse yellow with that stupid spell. A girl in front of her began to smooth her dark hair nervously, and Hermione wanted to tell her to stop, but the teacher started talking again, warning them that she would be back when everything was ready for the Sorting Ceremony and then opted to remain silent. She met Blaise’s eyes, which seemed anxious, as if the House in which he would be sorted would somehow change his future. Nobody seemed to really want to talk, except for the dark-haired girl with whom Hermione first wanted to congratulate herself, that asked her name.

“You’re not a Pureblood, aren’t you?” she asked, but she had such a kind smile that Hermione believed the question arose from the fact that they hadn’t met before. “I do, and also Blaise.” she said, glancing at the boy next to Hermione. They must have known each other before. “But it does not make much difference, at least as long as you’re gifted wizard.”

“I’ve tried a lot of spells since I bought Miranda Gadula’s book.” Hermione said, and she didn’t know how, but they ended up talking about which spells they had found more or less complex during the summer. She was happy that someone else had found Aberto one of their favorites.

“It doesn’t allow people to keep you away from the most interesting places.” she commented, and Hermione could only share Pansy’s point of view. She was a cute girl. Blaise, on the other hand, remained silent all the time, staring at the door.

“What’s up?” Hermione asked in a whisper to her new friend, hoping the boy wouldn’t hear her.

“He’s afraid of disappointing his parents, they were both Slytherins, and his mother could die of pain if he wouldn’t be one too.” explained Pansy, who seemed to have a great love for gossip.

“But is it always like that, in wizards’ families?” asked the girl, shocked.

Pansy shook her head: “But usually, when both parents belonged to a specific House, children should also be part of it.”

“It reminds me of a Muggle saying.” said Hermione but before she could cite it, some students screamed in fear. About twenty ghosts had burst into the room, crossing the back wall. Hermione had read about the ghosts that haunted the castle, but seeing them live was a completely different thing. They were pearly white, slightly transparent, and they slid around the room talking to each other and almost without looking at the first year students, who were very interested in their disturbing presence.

“New students!” finally exclaimed a ghost dressed as a friar. “Waiting to be sorted, I suppose.”

Hermione nodded silently.

“I hope to see you all in Hufflepuff!” the friar exclaimed, and Pansy rolled her eyes, with a certain disgust. She didn’t have to share the ideals of the Hufflepuff, and although they were all good things, like dedication and patience, she believed there were houses that were more suitable for her.

“And now, clear away!” ordered the harsh voice of Professor McGonagall, interrupting the ghost. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin.”

One by one, the ghosts vanished through the opposite wall.

“Get in line and follow me.” ordered the teacher, this time addressing to the students. Hermione, with the strange feeling that her legs had suddenly become lead, lined up behind Pansy, with Blaise in tow. They left the room, crossed the entrance hall again and passed a pair of double doors, thus entering the Great Hall. Hermione had read of that splendid and surprising room, but the light of thousands and thousands of candles suspended midair over four long tables set with plates and goblets of gold waiting to be filled, and all those eyes fixed just on them still made her feel smaller than she already was.

At the back of the room there was another long table, around which sat those who were to be their teachers. It was there that Professor McGonagall accompanied them so that everyone in line would stop in front of the other students, whose faces, illuminated by the light of the candles, looked like so many pale lanterns, not so different from those of the ghosts, placed here and there waiting enthusiastically to know where those new souls would end up. Hermione didn’t even look up to look at the magic ceiling, she had read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_, and she didn’t want to be further put in awe by that castle. So she observed Professor McGonagall placing a four-legged stool in front of the first-year students, placing on it an old pointed hat, all patched up and stained. For a few seconds, the silence fell on the room, then the hat contracted itself creating what resembled a long, wide open mouth, and breathed in like someone who took breath after a long period of apnea.

“Oh you may not think I’m pretty,

But don’t judge on what you see,

I’ll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.”

Hermione nearly laughed. The hat was singing!

“You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.”

He continued, and Hermione’s mind began to wander, until it began to talk about the four Houses. Much was said in the books, and they all seemed to have their strengths and weaknesses, and in Hermione’s eyes none of them suited her completely. Perhaps, Ravenclaw… but she wasn’t entirely sure.

“ Or perhaps in Slytherin

You’ll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!

And don’t get in a flap!

You’re in safe hands (though I have none)

For I’m a Thinking Cap!”

When the hat had finished, the whole room gave a thunderous applause. The Slytherins seemed the most satisfied with how they had been described that year. The hat bowed to all four tables, then returned motionless. Hermione would have liked the Sorting Ceremony to take place separately, not in front of all those people ready to judge her. Would she be brave enough for Gryffindor or fair enough for Hufflepuff? Hermione wasn’t sure. Surely, she felt that she belonged more in the other two Houses. At that point, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll of parchment and announcing that when she would call their names, the pupils would’ve had to sit on the stool, put the hat on their heads and wait for the verdict of what should’ve been just an inanimate object. Without wasting time, she called the first girl, who was immediately sorted into Hufflepuff, as well as the second one, to the delight of the Fat Friar.

“Boot Terry!” she called, and a brown-haired boy went to put on the hat, which immediately assigned him to Ravenclaw. Those on the second table from the left clapped their hands with much more manner than the Hufflepuffs, but many, even among the older ones, rose to shake hands with the newcomer. Hermione would have liked such a welcome. Also Mandy Brocklehur was sorted into Ravenclaw, while Lavender Brown ended up in Gryffindor. Although everyone in the far left table applauded for their first new recruit, a pair of red-haired twins was whistling, as if they were annoyed. They must have known the girl before and shouldn’t have found her nice at all. In that aspect at least Hermione had no problems. Of course, no one would have been this happy to have her in their House too, but she would’ve been able to assert herself.

“Bulstrode Millicent.” called professor McGonagall and the black-haired girl with a heavy, jutting jaw that made her face strangely sharp became a Slytherin in the blink of an eye. She barely heard that a guy named Justin had been sorted into Hufflepuff, all focused on the face of the new Slytherin. She was large and bulk and although she was a little awed she didn’t thought she looked like a bad person. Only misunderstood, perhaps. It took almost a minute for the hat to decide whether Seamus Finnigan was really a Gryffindor, but he eventually opted for that choice. And so, before her new friends could be sorted, it was her turn.

“Granger Hermione!”

If only she hadn’t made a fool of herself to not show up she would have gladly avoided making the few steps that separated her from the hat. Pansy squeezed her hand tightly, while Blaise gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. He had huge hands, to be eleven.

Hermione put the hat on her head, impatient. Why was it taking so long to decide?

“Slytherin!” it finally cried out, catching her by surprise. At the table where she had to sit down, many applauded, but there were also some disgruntled moans. Hermione didn’t understand why: they certainly couldn’t know her. She sat down next to Millicent, who gave her a loud slap on the shoulder as a welcome. Hermione smiled at her, tensed. Gregory Goyle was called, and immediately sorted into Slytherin. The applause for him was more thunderous. Hermione watched him carefully, recognizing the boy who took the boat with her, Blaise and Neville, who was just sorted into Gryffindor. A light blonde haired boy presented himself with a snobbish demeanor, as he already knew what his place was. The hat barely touched his carefully combed-back hair and screamed, “Slytherin!”

He decided to sit down next to Goyle. They had to be friends. Now there were only a few left. Lily Moon was sorted into Slytherin and sat down next to Hermione. She had the dreamy air of those who have achieved their purpose. Hermione tried to congratulate her, but she seemed more interested in studying the blond boy sitting in front of her.

“Nott Theodore,” Professor McGonagall announced, and that boy also ended up in Slytherin. It didn’t matter to Hermione. She couldn’t wait for her new friend’s name to be called.

“Parkinson Pansy!”

“Slytherin!” the hat cried, and she ran to the table amid the general applauses, though she seemed to have eyes only for Hermione. She ran to embrace her, as if they had always been friends, and some looked at her astonished, especially the group of four boys sitting in front of them.

“Sorry,” Pansy told Lily, who continued to study Draco’s reactions. What a bizarre name. “Could you move?” she asked, but the tone didn’t seemed a question at all. “I would like to stay close to my friend.”

“But these will not always be our seats…” the young girl tried to protest, but Pansy gave her an angry look and she was forced to face Theodore Nott before she knew it.

“I’m so excited! Slytherin is the best House by far and it seems unreal to me that you’re here with me! This is going to be the best years of our lives!” exclaimed Pansy, but before Hermione could answer professor McGonagall called twice the same name.

“Oh God, who was the one that wasn’t paying attention to professor McGonagall?” asked Millicent, making Hermione turn to see a brown haired girl with rounded glasses.

“But its Sally-Anne!” exclaimed Pansy. “I know her!”

“Slytherin!” yelled the Sorting Hat, and she joined the Slytherin table, enthusiastic.

“What a poor figure!” she exclaimed to Pansy, but she was laughing.

“Nott, leave the place for this beautiful girl.” said Draco, in a clammy manner. Hermione shared a shocked look with Pansy but neither of them said nothing. Sally-Anne acted as Draco didn’t said nothing and sat next to him without even thanking.

“Potter Harry!”

He was the dark-haired boy who was with the silly redhead!

“She said Potter?” Pansy asked while the poor guy was reaching the hat.

Hermione nodded.

“But that Harry Potter?“ asked Millicent, as if to be sure of it. Hermione didn’t believe there were many Harry Potters of their age so she looked at him as if he were a mythological creature. In the books, they didn’t talked about his physical description, they only said that as a child he had killed the Dark Lord and that thanks to him and the sacrifice of many heroes the war was over. But Blaise… Blaise must’ve recognized him. The hat looked undecided, but finally chose Gryffindor for the legendary boy. Many at Slytherin’s table seemed disappointed but Hermione didn’t care: the only thing that mattered was where Blaise was and why he hadn’t told her that she was in front of a hero.


	5. The Midnight Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days of ordinary administration at Hogwarts

“Look at them.” Pansy whispered. “Hidden behind Nott, isn’t it Blaise?”

Although he had been sorted in Slytherin and his room was right next to the one Hermione shared with Pansy, Millicent and Sally-Anne, he had managed to avoid her all evening and for most of the morning.

“There’s also Draco with them.” added Millicent, glancing at Lily.

“Don’t even think about it, after the whole scene with Sally-Anne I could never like him ever again” the girl replied, disgusted. Draco, in fact, had spent all of his dinnertime closer to Sally-Anne than to his friends, even though the girl ignored him without restraint.

“When will the new crush start? Tomorrow?” Pansy asked, teasing the girl too. Hermione just couldn’t get into that cheerful mood, not with Blaise in front of her laughing and joking with Malfoy. The previous year an older student had to repeat the year and ended up in class with her. Within a short time Hermione had come to hate him with such intensity that she had believed she would never meet anyone more disgusting, but this before she met Draco Malfoy, although the blondie retained that primacy only until Wednesday, when Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, as well as the one who had the job of hanging on the Common Room bulletin board the announcement that the following day flight classes would begin, which would be held together with the Gryffindors.

“I thought Dumbledore wanted to avoid these, and I quote, _useless and excessive rivalry_.” Hermione commented, distracted, without knowing that she would unintentionally ignite in Marcus’s mind, which made them even arrive late in class to explain to them that they didn’t have to be deceived by the fact that access to their House’s team was denied to first-year students, that they should’ve done better than the Gryffindors anyway. All day long, the boys didn’t talk about anything else, and even the girls, even if they didn’t want to point out, were not so unhappy with that pleasant distraction; lessons began to get heavier and detaching for a while didn’t seem like a bad idea, but not in Hermione’s mind, who had always hated P.E., though the terror became almost unmanageable only around dinnertime, making even sleep at night an impossible task, even making her have a lecture from Pansy, who asked her if she hadn't eaten too much at dinner. The next morning, although excitement was palpable in the Common Room, Flint thought was a good idea began immediately to dampen it, indicating who he thought would’ve a future in the team. Obviously, Hermione wasn’t among those people, but not even Pansy, so she wasn’t so disappointed.

“I think he doesn’t want girls, at least as long as he’s the Captain.” Millicent commented, although before denying her possible skill with the broom the boy stood silent for a solid ten seconds.

“Quidditch players don’t really like girls, let alone having them in the middle of the field!” Pansy exclaimed.

“So we can never go out with a Quidditch player?” Lily had asked, and the subject had moved from sport to boys quickly till lunch, when even the girls gave up and talked of nothing but Quidditch, at least until three p.m., when Hermione pointed out that they couldn’t go to the field in their skirt. In a general hysteria, they all ran to their rooms to change and wear the horrible men’s trousers.

“I look fat!” Pansy had exclaimed, looking at herself in the mirror, but Hermione had assured her that she was very pretty, and the girl had said nothing more.

The Slytherins arrived at the camp half an hour early, perhaps because they hadn’t lessons after lunch. Despite trying not to think about it, as she ran up the stairs to the camp, Hermione continued to hear Marcus’s voice in her head, reminding her that if she flew too high the school brooms would start to vibrate.

“Everyone should be able to bring their own.” Draco chimed, widening his already well-stocked group of idiots. Blaise was still among them, but Hermione hadn’t missed the sad looks he threw her from time to time.

Madam Rolanda Hooch was a short woman with gray hair and eyes yellow like the hawk’s. She seemed to be able to see everything and read in the soul of her students, and Hermione felt naked in front of her, despite she exceeded her only by a few inches and some boys were already much taller than her, first of all the giant Blaise was. With a gesture of annoyance, Hermione tried not to think of him and concentrated on the Gryffindors’ arrival and on the orders given by the professor, who screamed to take place next to a broom. Hermione did it and almost against her will she found herself taking place next to Blaise, quickly followed by Pansy, who looked at her like someone who knows what’s going to happen. Hermione replied with a grimace that snatched a chuckle from her friend and made them earn a dirty look from Madam Hooch.

“Stretch your right hand over your broom.” the woman said, checking that everyone followed her orders. Hermione immediately obeyed and followed quickly even the next command, but the broom didn’t rise, unlike those of Pansy, Blaise, Malfoy, Potter and Finnigan, making her feel an inept, although it console her that there were other fourteen people like her.

“Try again!” ordered the woman, but Hermione’s broom just did not want to oblige.

“It’s normal” said Malfoy, with his usual malice, looking at her “the Muggleborns don’t have it in their blood.”

“Apparently, not even all Pureblood are doing well.” Pansy commented, nodding at Longbottom’s broom, lying motionless on the green grass. Hermione was relieved. At least her raised, even if only for a few inches. She succeeded in her third attempt, and thought that perhaps the broomsticks were like horses. She had been riding for some time, and she had discovered that such great and majestic beasts felt the fear of those around them too.

At that point, Madam Hooch showed everyone how to mount the broomstick without sliding to the bottom, and Hermione found it surprisingly easy, unlike Pansy, whose perplexed expression almost made her laugh.

“But can I know how you do it?” asked Lily, turning to Hermione and Blaise.

“Years of experience.” the boy answered, but he was talking only for himself.

“I cannot believe you’re so good without ever getting on a broom.” Millicent commented, snatching a nervous smile from Hermione. The teacher didn’t even correct her grip, which she had to do with Malfoy.

“Apparently you’re not as good as you thought.” Blaise teased him, and for a moment Hermione almost forgot that they were no longer talking to each other and smiled.

“We’ll see who will enter the team first, Zabini.” he replied.

“Blaise, would you help me with my grip?” Sally-Anne asked in a low voice, trying not to get caught by the teacher since that woman scared her. The boy, with a sly smile, took a few steps forward to show the girl how to do it and Hermione wondered if she had overrated him on the train.

“And now, when I play the whistle, give yourself a boost by pressing your feet firmly on the ground.” Madame Hooch said, interrupting the little theater. The smile disappeared from the boy’s plump lips and he returned to his seat.

“Hold the brooms tightly,” she added, going to tighten Sally-Anne’s hands more firmly, which forced Hermione to hold back a grin, “and raise about a yard;” she continued, throwing a meaningful glance at Draco and his friends, who seemed to be having too much fun, “then come back down, leaning slightly forward.” she concluded, and immediately started counting. At two Hermione knew with certainty that she wasn’t ready. One, however, never came. A Gryffindor pushed too early and was floating three feet above the ground.

“But that …” Blaise began, but Hermione finished the sentence in his place: “… is Neville.”

The boy was pale as a rag, while the broom rose up to a height of six yards. Hermione should have predicted that something might have gone wrong, that the wand would serve her, yet she loved it so much and was so terrified by the prospect of breaking it that she had left it in her room. Blaise, on the other hand, hadn’t been so thoughtful, and the handle came out of the wide pocket of his cloak. Hermione knew that no spell was as powerful as the one cast with your own wand, but it was worth trying. She didn’t have time to explain to his friend what he should do, especially because Neville was slipping from his broomstick.

“Arresto Momentum!” the girl shouted, her wand pointing to Neville. She had never tried that spell, they taught it in second year, and she didn’t believed that it would serve her so soon, but she had read about it. She was risking everything, her whole scholastic career and probably Neville’s life just for something she had read about. She prayed that all those phrases about the fact that many things cannot be leant from books were false. At first Hermione noted with horror that time didn’t stopped and Neville was falling inevitably to toward the ground, but at nearly four yards from the grass the broom began to slow down, almost to allow him to lay his feet on the solid ground without any noise. Neville looked at her in awe, eyes shining with tears, and Hermione remained motionless, feeling the eyes of all on them on her, while still clutching Blaise’s wand spasmodically. The teacher also looked at her in amazement, but said nothing, giving Neville permission to return to the Common Room since he would never have managed to get back on a broom.

As soon as Madam Hooch was out of earshot, Malfoy teased Neville. Hermione tried to ignore his chatter with Goyle, who had positioned himself close to him for that hour, as she tried to ignore Parvati Patil who pathetically tried to take the boy’s defenses.

“Watch!” exclaimed Malfoy, gliding on the ground. He picked up a roundish object, which had to be made of glass, with a whitish mist inside. “That stupid thing that grandma sent to Longbottom.”

Some Slytherin laughed but Hermione didn’t understand why it was so funny.

“Give it to me, Malfoy.” Harry said quietly, approaching the boy of the rival House. Despite his voice, his eyes screamed challenge. All the boys who had managed to lift themselves off the ground, and who were now floating about three yards high, fell silent, ready to enjoy the scene.

“I bet a galleon that Potter will be the first to fall.” Goyle said, looking at his friends who had managed to fly. Only Crabbe was still on the ground, unable to remain at altitude without risking injury. Hermione was sure she wouldn’t waste her time stopping his fall since it probably would’ve done him good and banged some sense in this empty skull.

“I do not know, Goyle, I think Harry shows a certain familiarity with brooms.” Pansy replied. There was no trace of malice in her voice, she was simply noticing what everyone had already saw.

“Maybe because his father was a Chaser.” Sally-Anne added. Hermione smiled at her, proud that she had shared something her mother must have told her about her years at Hogwarts and her friendship with Potter’s mother.

“Bulstrode’s mother was the Captain of the team, but that doesn’t mean she has Quidditch in her blood!” Goyle replied, causing a general laugh from his friends. Millicent, just like Crabbe, was struggling to figure out how to float and at the same time remain balanced on something so small. So Marcus was wrong, Millicent wasn’t a good candidate for the selections of the following year. Maybe he was wrong about Malfoy too. As much as Hermione wanted it, she doubted it. His way of being on the broom reminded her of the older boys who were riding with her, who all strutted carried their wonderful trotting horses, as if they had come straight out of another era. She had just stopped for that reason: Hermione liked the eighties, maybe because she was just a child, but she liked them and preferred to read about other times instead of pretending to live in them.

“I think I’ll put somewhere where Longbottom will have to struggle to have it back.” Draco muttered, pretending to be thoughtful, turning the ball in his hand. “What do you say Crabbe, would you struggle to get to the top of a tree?”

Goyle and Nott laughed, while Hermione could only look at him wronged.

“Or do you think you want it, Granger?” he asked maliciously before throwing it to her. Hermione caught it without unbalancing from her broom. The grin died on Malfoy’s lips. Hermione turned to Harry and tossed him the glass ball. Looking at it well, Hermione remembered she once read about something like that, an out-of-fashion object that was once used by wizards to not forget other things. The dark-haired boy thanked her, and shortly thereafter they all descended to the floor at the teacher’s call.

“You were good, very good.” she complimented, glancing at those who had stood in the air for longer. Harry smiled, satisfied, putting Neville’s remembrall in one of the pockets of his cloak. He was the only Gryffindor in the group.

“As you know, the flying lessons are followed only by first-year students who in my opinion proved to be able to access the Quidditch team’s selections for their House team next year, otherwise you won’t see a broom in this field if not during your free time and certainly not one of mines.”

All the kids nodded and the woman dismissed them.

"We were very good!” exclaimed Pansy, all perky. “The only girls to have received Madam Hooch’s compliments!”

“Sure, but none of you have been called by Severus Snape himself to get a seat on the team.” Malfoy interrupted her, visibly bored. It was time for dinner, and usually he would find a way to demean everyone who was around him and emphasize himself, so that intervention couldn’t be random, although it wasn’t explained until everyone was seated at the table and Flint started complaining that McGonagall had allowed Potter to join the team despite being in his first year.

“Who cares?” asked Crabbe. “As far as I know, last year you tore them.” he commented, facing Flint.

“And I would like this to happen again this year!” he exclaimed. “I cannot stand Wood’s smile when they win.”

“They haven’t won since Charlie Weasley left.” a second-year boy intervened. He had brown hair and big, almost iridescent eyes. “I don’t think a first-year kid can change things.”

“I hope so, or I’ll be the worst Slytherin Captain in history.”

“Never as much as Lucinda Talkalot…” the newcomer answered, and Hermione stopped listening. Not even Draco paid attention to the quibble about Quidditch, and Hermione decided she would keep an eye on him, and not wrongly since at the end of the dinner he crept up to the Gryffindor’s table, hoping to catch Potter by surprise, followed only by Crabbe and Goyle; Blaise and Nott had left with Flint and their new friend, probably putting an end to their friendship with Malfoy.

“I'll make you pay, Potter.” she heard, as she pretended to talk to Neville, who still seemed quite shaken by that afternoon’s experience and didn’t stopped thanking her for a second.

“You are very brave with your feet on the ground and your not-so-little friends by your side. It was easier to tease a girl than to fight with me, isn’t it?” Harry asked coldly. Hermione felt her ears warm slightly at the thought that Potter was talking about her.

“I’m ready to fight you anytime.” Malfoy replied, without didn’t really respond to Potter’s question. “If you want, even tonight.” he added, probably to do the braggart more than he already was.

Hermione held her breath. They didn’t have permission to leave the dormitories during the night and if that idiot of Malfoy had been found he would’ve lost points for the Slytherin, which Gryffindor was slowly managing to reach. Moreover, if Potter had been left with even just a bruise he could’ve reported him to the principal himself, and it was said that the two of them were very close. But even Malfoy must have thought of this occurrence, so although it was obvious that he would gladly break Harry's nose, he proposed a duel in the wizard fashion. They couldn’t be that bad, right? There must’ve been rules that claimed that you couldn’t use spells too powerful and maybe…

“What do you mean you’re my second?” Harry asked Ron, perhaps a little too loudly, when Malfoy and his gang left.

“Well, the second is who takes your place if you die.” the redheaded boy explained, and Hermione was certain she should do something to stop those madness. Why did the boys always have to be so violent? She hadn't been wrong to stay away from them all those years and she would continue to do so since she wasn't sure she could endure other sleepless nights like that. Around half past eleven the next room door opened but Hermione had to give Malfoy and his henchman time to get out of the Common Room before imitating them, which gave time to a not-so-sleepy Pansy to face her regarding her intentions. Hermione tried to lie, and her friend even offered her a golden chance, asking her if she should meet with one of the occupants of the next room, but Hermione couldn't hide her plan for long.

“I can’t believe it!” Pansy exclaimed in the Common Room and Hermione shut her up putting an hand on her mouth. Pansy tried to bite her but Hermione was too fast.

“I come with you.” Pansy said in a lower tone, and Hermione, before she could protest, realized that this wasn’t a question but an information and Pansy proved herself to be, above all, a resource, bewitching a pendant to show them the way as a compass indicates the north.

“To know that you always have such brilliant ideas I would have woken you before.” Hermione commented, as they took the umpteenth turn. “Even if, if they find us, they would take away double the points, since we are two.”

Pansy, even if she had something to say, had no way to answer since both jumped at the sound of something moving behind them. Hermione turned abruptly, lighting an empty corridor with her own wand, her back against her friend’s. Nobody showed up.

“Homenum Revelio!” she exclaimed, as a precaution.

“Speaking of complex spells…” Pansy muttered to her friend, with a proud smile.

A dark corner was suddenly illuminated, and the presence of a person wrapped in a dressing gown of dubious taste and with tremendous color-faded slippers revealed herself.

“Millicent?” Hermione asked, stunned.

“Is there anything you two cannot do?” asked the girl who had just been discovered to follow them, halfway between annoyed and amused. Hermione and Pansy almost laughed, but they were both thinking the same thing: they would have to get rid of Millicent, and quickly, if they wanted to get there before Draco could do something that would get everyone in trouble.

“So you’re telling me that you followed us because the Bloody Baron told you that two girls had escaped from the dorm?” Pansy asked, as soon as the girl had finished explaining why she was there. Millicent nodded.

“You are aware that this ghost will kill you one day, will you? You first skip Transfiguration, making Slytherin lose point, because of him, now this… You don’t have to trust the ghosts.” Pansy scolded Millicent.

“But this time he didn’t lie.” she objected.

“But it made you end up in something dangerous!” Pansy exclaimed in reply.

“I swear that if we get caught because of you I won’t have any trouble ending up in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable Curse.” Hermione hissed at her friends as she checked if the street was clear past the end of the corridor. They hadn’t had time to get rid of Millicent, but her presence was far too clumsy and certainly too cumbersome to allow them to do a good job, at least Pansy should’ve mitigate the inconvenience, not magnify it. They were lucky, and met neither Finch nor his damn cat, at least until the pendant led them straight to his office. The door was slightly open, and the light inside illuminated a narrow corridor.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve broken the rules just to tell me that someone else is breaking the rules?” Finch inquired, and the girls pressed against the stonewall, listening to the conversation. The pendant said that Draco was in there.

“I’m not just breaking the rules, stupid Squib, I came here to tell you that I was threatened by Harry Potter himself, don’t you want to punish him?” asked what was undeniably Draco’s voice. There was a pause, and Hermione knew that Mr. Filch had to be very tempted by that offer. Since he had seen Harry and his friend try to enter the third-floor hallway, he didn’t like them very much.

“And be it, where did you say they are?”

Someone went too far to listen, or maybe something bumped into the floor, however, it didn’t matter: meowing, Mrs. Norris ran out of the office. Hermione almost froze, and then began to back away slowly, stepping on Pansy’s left foot, making the girl refrain from cursing with pain.

“They’re in the Trophy Room.” Malfoy answered, and Hermione could hear his arrogant voice above the cat’s hysterical meows. They turned their backs to the hateful beast and started running along the corridor full of armors. Obviously, no girl could sow a cat, so they slipped into the first door they found, which led them to a corridor, and finally to another, but none of them had ever been in that wing of the castle, so, inevitably, they could say they were lost.

“Pansy, this seems like the right time to use that spell to get back to the Common Room.” Hermione said. Despite the darkness, she immediately realized that the friend was looking too intensely at the floor.

“What happens?” asked Millicent, worried. Pansy, as the only explanation, lifted the pendant, which indicated exactly the way from which they had come.

“This spell allows the pendant to indicate the person you want to reach, but it cannot indicate two people, or places, at the same time.” the girl explained.

“But you cannot…” Hermione began, but Pansy finished the sentence for her. “Cancel the spell? No.”

“So we just have to continue and hope that Filch won’t find us?” Hermione asked, and Pansy nodded sadly.

“Or we could wait. Sooner or later, Malfoy will have to go back to the Common Room.” Millicent suggested, and she wasn’t wrong: not even the senseless hatred that Filch felt for Potter could’ve allowed Draco to wander the castle all night long. Hermione was about to agree when she heard the sound of a torn tapestry and steps approaching in the running.

“Stay together!” she told her friends, who came up to her, all with their wands drawn out, ready to fight back. But who was approaching, with shortness of breath and terrified expression, didn’t intend to engage in battle.

“What are you doing here?” Potter asked, out of breath.

“I would like to say that I can ask you the same question.” Hermione answered.

“So let me understand well, did you think that Malfoy wanted to kill Harry?” Ron asked, when Hermione had finished explaining the situation making her roll her eyes. It was obvious that even Pansy was refraining herself from punching him on the nose: why boys never understood anything?

“We didn’t think he really wanted to kill him, just hurt him. Apparently he’s smarter than I expected.” Hermione replied, although the disgust in her voice was evident.

“He’s just a coward.” Harry hissed.

“Other words come to my mind to describe him.” Pansy interjected, flatly.

“In mine too, like…” Weasley started, but Hermione waved him off. She had heard a noise, like a lock being opened, or the knob of an old handle being turned over after a long time.

“Hi Peeves.” said Millicent, with a gentle smile. Hermione thought she and Weasley had a good chance of getting themselves killed by the end of the first year. What made her believe that kindness would make a difference with the untamed and annoying poltergeist, when chaos was his nature? Hermione had already come to think that the castle would have been safer without ghosts but he could still accept them while the poltergeists were on another level: she hated them and even Harry didn’t seem to be happy to see him, especially when he made a sharp sound that would surely attract someone’s attention.

“Shut up, Peeves, please.” Millicent implored him. “Or you’ll have us expelled.”

The Poltergeist chuckled, and that smile would fill Hermione’s nightmares for at least a week.

“Around the castle at midnight, eh?” he asked, as if it weren’t obvious, before erupting into yet another disturbing laugh. Judging by the color of Neville’s face, he seemed about to faint. Why that kid always slipped into situations where he obviously shouldn’t have been?

“Fools…” Peeves began, but Pansy interrupted him before he could continue.

“How dare you …” he growled, advancing before everyone. “Petrificus Totalus!” she almost growled. Against all odds, the spell failed.

“Insipid little girl, you cannot petrify a Poltergeist!” the spirit exclaimed, and didn’t seem at all pleased with the unfolding of events. “You will be expelled! You will all be expelled!” he exclaimed before screaming that there were students out of the dorms. But how could he have that ringing voice?

“Students out of the dorms in the Charms corridor!” he screamed again. The boys started running towards the end of the hallway with all their strength in their legs.

“Did you really need to be that specific?” Hermione asked, to no one, when she realized that Filch had appeared behind them. When she turned, she almost crashed into Ron. The two boys, who led the group, had stopped in front of a large door.

“What are you waiting for?” Hermione asked.

“It’s locked!” Harry exclaimed. The girl rolled her eyes again and shook off Harry’s presence with a shove. Harry tried to stay attached to the handle but Hermione proved she was stronger than expected.

“Alohomora!” the girl exclaimed, and the lock opened. Ron almost threw her to the ground, earning a glare from Hermione and a murderous look from Pansy, to throw himself in first. When even Millicent, who was still panting, had entered, the door closed behind her, and the children pressed their ears against the wood, hoping to hear if Peeves would actually betray them. He didn’t, even scoffing at Filch. They heard his steps moving away, and everyone sighed with relief.

“We are safe.” Millicent whispered, exhausted.

“I cannot wait to go back to bed.” Ron muttered. Was he regretting that adventure? Because Hermione would’ve liked to say yes, but nothing so exciting had ever happened to her.

“Stop Neville!” Harry exclaimed, and Hermione turned to see what her friend was doing so annoying the famous Harry Potter. It was at that moment that she realized that the one they had entered wasn’t a room but the forbidden corridor on the third floor. And at that moment she also understood why it was forbidden: a three-headed dog was staring at them with swirling, mad eyes and foam at his mouth, ready to devour them. But what kind of school it was? The beast filled the space between the ceiling and the floor and three noses contracted and vibrated in their direction. Was it perhaps deciding who he would devour with its big yellow fangs? Hermione hoped it opted for the boys though they still had a hope to survive: their appearance was unexpected and if they had fled quickly enough, leaving behind the wooden door the creature’s growl, they could have made it. Even Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing as he looked thoughtful at the doorknob and, without notice, pushed out Millicent, who was still watching enchanted the three-headed mastiff. Hermione was forced to drag Neville, whose legs had suddenly become jelly, pulling him by the wrist while Pansy was the last to leave, making the whole situation even more stressful for Hermione: she wouldn't lose her best friend that way and if the mastiff had even ripped her off a single hair because of the cowardice of three Gryffindor Hermione would’ve made her mission in life to have them killed one by one.

“Colloportus!” Pansy shouted, her voice made even more acute by fear, her wand pointed at the lock. As soon as they heard the clicks of the lock they started running again but they had to stop when Millicent grew tired and a stabbing pain in her spleen almost knocked her to her knees. The boys didn't seem very happy with the interruption and Hermione looked at them with a hint of disgust: “You don’t owe us anything, so try to get to the seventh floor without being killed.” and they were happy to do so, although Harry stopped a little longer to tell her that he hoped to see her again the next day. It made her blush a bit, even though it was probably just a wish to not have them killed by some other monster hidden within those walls.

“I hope too.” she replied, without even looking at him: her attention had been drawn by Ron, who didn't really seem to share the feeling, and by Neville, who looked like someone who wouldn't be able to talk for a while. As soon as they disappeared, the three girls resumed their return, following Pansy's pendant: Draco had to be safe and sound in his bed and they would’ve taken advantage of it. At half past midnight they dropped heavily on the Common Room armchairs, incredulous that in such a short time they had seen such absurd things.

“Can I know what they are going to do with a monster like that, locked in a school corridor?” asked Millicent, who hadn’t stopped a second to ask questions during the return journey.

“Milly, did you notice what its paws was on, did you?” asked Pansy. The girl shook her head.

“On a trapdoor.” Hermione answered absent mindedly, her gaze fixed between the flames of the fireplace that were now extinguishing.

“Horror night?” asked a sleepy voice, which made them jump. It was Sally-Anne, looking at them, her eyes dripping from sleep. “Next time, remember to invite me.” she said, partly resentful, partly too sleepy to be angry. Hermione ignored her, barely noticing when she returned to her room, ready to slip under the covers and reach an adequate number of hours of sleep, too busy wondering what the beast was supposed to hide. Or protect.


	6. The First Match

After their morning at the Great Lake the friendship between Blaise and Sally-Anne became so exclusive that, at the beginning of November, everyone thought that in the course of some time a love story would born between them, despite their young age. Hermione wasn’t particularly pleased with her friend’s attitude and was disappointed by Blaise’s, who first seemed to want to apologize for being disappeared for no reason and now replaced her like that, but she didn’t have much time to think about it, partly because of the cold that penetrated her bones wherever she went, partly because of the imminent first Quidditch game, the most tense since it was against Gryffindor. As much as Hermione wanted her House to win, she felt a little guilty for not cheering for Harry but Pansy had been very clear: in spite of their new friendship with him, she wouldn’t betray her colors and Hermione agreed mentally to do the same if she wanted to continue being her friend and have a head attached to her neck. By eleven o’clock, the whole school was in the stands, around the Quidditch camp. Many were armed with binoculars, but Hermione hadn’t brought one, convinced, when she went to Diagon Alley, that wizarding sports wouldn’t have interested her exactly like the Muggle ones, so she sat on the highest steps next to Millicent, who sported a brand new one, in case she really needed it. Near them, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle held up a Slytherin banner while their boss studied the camp as a connoisseur with his expensive-looking pair of binoculars. Before he could see her, Hermione returned to her place. She didn’t want to endure yet another one of Malfoy’s joke, also, the game was about to start and when Madam Hook blew hard in her silver whistle, Hermione found herself quickly absorbed in the game. Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor friend of the Weasley twins, Ron’s brothers, was commenting. Hermione tried to pay the utmost attention, but her gaze was caught several times by the snappy figure of Adrian Pucey, one of the Slytherin Chasers. At first she justified her attitude because he hardly seemed to move away from the area where the Quaffle was but in the end she had to admit to herself that she was simply trying to catch his face’s details since she hadn’t seen him often and he certainly didn’t hang out with the freshmen, unlike Flint.

“I see you’re passionate.” Pansy teased, and Hermione nudged her, but never took her eyes off the Chaser. Then Gryffindor signed, and as the Slytherins whistled and screamed, Hermione lost sight of the source of her interest.

“Move a little…” muttered a deep, gruff voice, drawing Hermione’s attention; it was Hagrid, the one who had taken them inside the school on their first day, and she heard Ron, who was sitting not far from Pansy, greeting him, but she couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation, so she returned to focus on the game, where Harry ran here and there, straddled on his broom, squinting in desperate search for a golden flash that he didn’t seem to find. The Quaffle came back to Slytherin, and Adrian avoided two Bludgers, the Gryffindor’s beaters and Katie Bell and he flew quickly toward the doors, when he suddenly stopped and let the Quaffle fall, too busy following with his gaze the golden light that had touched his left ear. Both Harry and Terence Higgs, Slytherin’s Seeker, saw the golden trail, and followed it in a head to head that made Hermione hold her breath. Obviously, Harry was faster than Terence was, mainly thanks to his superior quality broom but also for his small size. He would even have taken the Golden Snitch if only Marcus Flint hadn’t blocked him on purpose. The Gryffindor burst into a roar of rage, and it was impossible for Hermione to understand Madam Hook’s decision, at least until she saw Alicia Spinnet beat a penalty and send the Quaffle on the net as if she didn’t need to force herself to do it. Hermione would’ve liked to be like her, once she grew up. The Quaffle returned to Slytherin, and Marcus passed Alicia and Katie Bell, before being hit in the face by a Bludger, but Hermione barely managed to stay focused, staring at Harry, who seemed to have a few problems handling his broom.

“Do you think it was Marcus?” Pansy whispered, but Hermione shook her head. It was dark magic, and no student had the proper knowledge to do such a thing. On the contrary, a professor… Hermione snatched the binoculars from Millicent’s hands, and began to scrutinize the audience, receiving a few perplexed glances from her friends. Nobody seemed suspicious, except Snape, who never took his eyes off Harry and seemed to mutter under his breath. Hermione was sure; it was he who was doing a jinx on the broom. Even Lily had imitated her friend’s gesture, but before she could think of stopping her, Hermione had disappeared. Harry’s broom was trembling too hard for him to keep himself attached to it for a long time, so there was no time to evaluate the pros and cons of the situation. The spectators were all on their feet, and it wasn’t difficult for Hermione to go unnoticed among those horrified faces. She came undisturbed to the stage behind Snape and didn’t even stop to apologize to Professor Quirrell, when she bumped him, knocking him face down. Once she reached Snape, Hermione crouched, pulled out her wand and whispered the bluebell flame spell. Blue flames leaped from the wand, and they hit the edge of Snape’s dress. It took maybe thirty seconds for Snape to realize he had caught fire, but it was enough for Hermione to be far enough away when a sudden cry of pain broke from his lips. That stir was enough for Harry to get back on his broom.

“We have to go.” said Hermione, once she came back to her seat, to Pansy. The girl nodded without asking anything else and she got up from her seat, just when the whole Gryffindor fan club burst into a cry of general joy. Gryffindor had won, but that wasn’t what Hermione was interested in anymore; having reached the Common Room, Hermione had enough time and privacy to explain to Pansy what had happened, though the girl didn’t seem particularly convinced.

“Can anyone open this damn thing?” a familiar voice shrieked on the other side of the wall. Hermione got up and allowed Ron to come in. The boy seemed to take a few seconds to look around and study the place, but finally he recovered, and met Hermione’s gaze.

“What do you want?” asked Hermione, and Pansy got up from her seat, approaching him.

“I know what you’ve done.” he said, and at Hermione’s hears seemed like a treat.

“Too many people know it, maybe I should get rid of some of them.” she replied, trying to scare him. But he was a Gryffindor, and he didn’t step back.

“I’m not here to tell Snape that you set his robe on fire, I’m here to thank you.”

“Have you told it to someone else?” asked Pansy, ignoring the last sentence. Ron shook his head.

“Neither Harry?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“Oh yes, I told Harry, but he has no intention of denouncing you, in fact, he didn’t want me to come here, but I couldn’t let you put yourself against Snape without knowing what he did.” answered Ron. Hermione frowned, and Pansy told him to talk and leave quickly. Anyone would find his presence in the undergrounds at least suspicious.

“At Halloween, he tried to evade the surveillance of the three-headed dog.” Ron started, but Pansy interrupted him.

“If it has anything to do with that beast, we don’t want to know anything.” she said, and started to leave, but Hermione grabbed her wrist and forced her to stay.

“Go on.” she said to the guy and listened to him saying he and Harry thought he wanted to steal what the dog was guarding.

“The dog, is Hagrid’s.” he revealed, and Hermione held her breath. Was a beast like that legal?

“And he said that is a question between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel.” he finished, nearly breathless.

“Now things get interesting in this school.” Pansy said, with a half-smile on her face.

“You know something about Flamel?” asked Ron, and Hermione nearly laughed.

“You don’t?”


	7. Nicolas Flamel and the Dragon Egg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Among all the concerns that a schoolyear at Hogwarts brings will Hermione have time for her first crush?

Things got even more complicated after the Gryffindor against Hufflepuff game. Ron contacted them late at night, after Gryffindor’s victory party, and told them that Harry had followed Snape after the game, and had he had met up with Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest. In any case, they decided not to say anything to Harry until it was strictly necessary, which happened during the Easter holidays, while all four were in the library studying. Ron was the first to see Hagrid, and the first to let slip Nicolas Flamel’s name in front of Harry.

“How long?” he asked, and Hermione was forced to admit that they had known everything for quite a while now. Against all odds, that answer seemed to reassure Harry, who tried to ask Hagrid how the stone was protected as well as the three-headed dog, as if that kind of protection was not enough. Hagrid, however, silenced him, inviting all four of them to his house, without the promise of revealing something to them, but leaving Hermione certain that he would let some details slip, more or less useful.

“What do you think he was hiding behind his back?” Pansy asked thoughtfully. Hermione also noticed that the half-giant behaved stranger than usual.

“Do you think it has anything to do with the stone?” she asked, and Pansy shrugged.

“We could check in what section he was.” she suggested, and before anyone could get up, Ron volunteered to do the job. He wasn’t good at school and Hermione was certain that he passed the various tests only and solely thanks to her and Pansy’s help, but he was an excellent practical worker and returned after a few minutes with a substantial pile of books, which he dropped soundly on the table. Judging by the titles, all they talked about was dragons. Pansy took one and began to leaf through it listlessly.

“Hagrid has always wanted a dragon, he told me the first time we met.” Harry said, glancing furtively at the pages that ran through Pansy’s thin fingers. He too, after all, didn’t seem so disinterested in the subject.

“But they are against our laws.” Hermione pointed out, immediately followed by Pansy, who enunciated the law that outlawed their breeding as if she were reading it.

“It’s hard not to get noticed by the Muggle, if we raise a dragon in the garden, and anyway they cannot be tamed: too dangerous. You should see the burns that got Charlie in Romania with the wild dragons.” sneered Ron, in front of Harry’s puzzled expression.

“But in Great Britain there are wild dragons?” Harry asked.

“Obviously.” replied Hermione. “The Common Welsh Green and the Hebridean Black.”

“The Ministry of Magic has his work cut out to keep the thing secret.” Ron interjected.

“And we must continue to make spells on the Muggle so that they lose their memory of them.” concluded Pansy, leaving Harry the only possible question: what did have Hagrid in mind? They found out an hour later, when they knocked on the half-giant door. The curtains on the windows were all pulled and Hagrid had a breathless attitude, worthy of those who hide a big secret. Inside, they nearly stifled from the heat, and Hermione quickly took off the light brown leather jacket she wore over the sweater Pansy gave her. Though the day was anything but cold, a crackling fire was burning in the fireplace, drying the throat and further inflating Hermione’s curls, making her look like Hagrid’s smaller version. She absolutely had to ask Pansy to do some spell on her hair, once out of there. Fortunately, the half-giant made tea for the four of them and even offered weasel sandwiches, but they all refused.

“So, you wanted to ask me something?” said Hagrid, after he finished his first cup of tea.

“You know what we want to know.” replied Harry, serious.

“And you know I can’t tell you.” he replied. “First, because I don’t know and second because you already know too much and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. The Stone’s here for a good reason. They nearly stole it at the Gringott… I think you figured it out, right? However, I would get a shock if I know how you did know about Fluffy.”

“Maybe you don’t want to tell us, but you know it.” said Hermione. These were the first words she said to Hagrid since they met, at least that she remembered, and they were aimed at stealing information from him against his will. She was sure that everyone else would have felt bad, but she didn’t. Pansy, who immediately understood her game, prepared to give her a hand.

“For a long time you knew everything that happened in this place, even my mother told me, and I suppose it’s still like that.”

Hagrid’s beard quivered and Hermione realized that they had hit the right spot.

“We just wanted to know who took care of the protection.” added Hermione. “I mean, you know, apart from you, who Dumbledore could have trusted to the point of letting himself be helped?”

Hagrid’s chest swelled with pride and Harry and Ron gave the girls a radiant look.

“I suppose there’s nothing wrong if I tell you this.” said Hagrid, and Hermione knew they’ve won. “Let me think… I was the one who landed Fluffy to Dumbledore and then some teachers has done some spells: professor Sprout, professor Flitwick, professor McGonagall…” while he was speaking, he was counting the names with his fingers. “Professor Quirrell and obviously even Dumbledore has done something. Wait a moment, I forgot someone. Ah, yeah, professor Snape.”

“Snape?” asked, surprised, both Harry and Ron. For Hermione, it wasn’t a surprise: if he was somehow a bad person, he needed to make people think he wasn’t and furthermore, being able to cast a spell for the Stone’s protection made it easier for him to steal it.

“Yeah, it’s not that you’re still mulling on him, isn’t it?“ Hagrid asked gruffly, but before he could add anything, Ron intervened, disagreeing. Neither Hermione nor Pansy knew what Hagrid talked about and Hermione supposed it was best in this way.

“You’re the only one who knows how to calm Fluffy, right?” asked Harry. He was the only one who hadn’t understood that Hermione and Pansy’s way of questioning was the most functional on Hagrid.

“Nobody knows it, only Dumbledore and me.” replied Hagrid, full of pride. Harry muttered something, but Hermione didn’t heard, too focused on the temperature in the room.

“Can you open a window?” asked Harry, anticipating her. “I’m dying for the heat.” In fact, he too had taken off his sweater, and had remained only in his uniform shirt, which he also wore during the holidays. It was certainly better off than his cousin’s clothes.

"Impossible Harry, I’m sorry.” Hagrid said, glancing down at the hearth, in the center of which, above a kettle, was a huge black egg.

“Where did you get it?” Ron asked, leaning over the hearth to see the egg up close. Judging by his passion for magical creatures, she was quite sure that he would follow his brother Charlie’s career; she didn’t know Mrs. Weasley in person, but as it was described to her, Hermione imagined she would certainly not be happy.

“I won it yesterday.” said Hagrid. “I went down to the village to get a few drinks and I started playing cards with a foreigner, in fact, to tell you the truth, he was very happy to get rid of it.”

“Maybe because it’s illegal?” asked, rhetorically, Hermione.

“What you’ll do when it’ll hatch?” asked Pansy.

“I’ve read something” replied Hagrid, taking a big book from under the mattress. “In the library I took this.” he said, showing the tome’s cover to his guests. Hermione almost cursed herself for not having noticed the absence of that book among those brought by Ron. It was a tome by now exceeded, but she knew about its existence even if she never read it and, for anyone who was fond of dragons, was a real milestone.

“You have to keep the egg in the lit fireplace, as the mother warms the eggs with her own hot breath…” read, thoughtful, Pansy.

“Here it says, once it hatch, that you’ll have to feed the dragon every half an hour with a mixture of brandy and chicken blood.” said Hermione, a little disgusted. Pansy wrinkled her nose, but didn’t added anything.

“Where will you find all that blood?” Ron asked, as if it didn’t trouble him at all.

“And how will you stay awake so long?” Harry asked.

“Eating so often it’ll also grow very quickly, what will you do when you cannot keep it inside your house anymore?” asked Hermione, and she was sure that, after all those questions, Hagrid was about to chase them all in a bad way.

“Nobody noticed that we are in a wooden hut?” Pansy asked, alluding to the four thin walls. Hermione blanched: that story would end in tragedy.

“I wonder what it’s like, to live peacefully.” Hermione complained, on the way back.

“We would get bored to death.” Pansy replied, even if, Hermione could understand it, she was also worried about the consequences that he would’ve faced if someone had discovered that Hagrid kept a smuggled dragon in his hut. In any case, they had very little time to think about it, with the lessons that began again, even more dense than before, and with a schedule at the edge of madness. By now, Hermione had begun to write review programs for most of the Slytherins of her year and for some Gryffindors too. Not that it displeased her. Pansy helped her most of the time, and it was on a relatively full evening that Adrian Pucey himself stood in front of them, looking embarrassed. Hermione almost didn’t have the courage to raise her head, how red was her face.

“How can we help you?” Pansy asked, for both of them. Hermione was grateful to her friend for her sudden intervention.

“I know you’re in the first year, but I’ve heard that you have made a review program for the Weasley twins from Gryffindor, who are on the third and…” he began, embarrassed, but Pansy stopped him immediately.

“Do you need a review program?” she asked, and he just nodded.

“Hermione will prepare it; I already have my work with those two red devils.“ Hermione froze. Doing a review program was a bit like being someone’s tutor, which meant spending at least a minimum of time together. She glared at Pansy and raised her head, regretting her decision at the same moment: her ears were burning.

"I need the complete program and, if you have any, your notes about what’s going to be or not in the tests, all for tomorrow morning.” she said, trying to keep her tone as professional as possible. Her stomach was in turmoil. “If it’s not a problem, obviously.” she added finally, embarrassed. Adrian smiled, beaming, and Hermione felt the heat spread to her cheeks. He probably didn’t smile at her but simply because he expected that his study program would arrive only after at least a week, like that of anyone else. But he wasn’t anyone else.

“No problem, tomorrow you’ll have everything you need.” he answered, before taking his leave with his chest full of satisfaction. Hermione sighed loudly. She had been an idiot, as usual.

“You haven’t the twins.” Hermione said to Pansy, as soon as Adrian disappeared from her sight.

“I know, but this is your only chance to hang out with him before school ends.” replied Pansy, checking something on a long list she quickly hid under a tall stack of paper sheets, before Hermione could see even a single letter her friend has written on it.


	8. Norbert, Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Norbert and a crush that doesn't want to go away

“It’s hatching.” Harry whispered as they left the Great Hall. Hermione turned wide-eyed and Ron suggested to skip the lesson and go straight to the hut, but Hermione disagreed, as they would’ve attracted too much attention.

“See you there at the break.” she said, than hurried to join Pansy to tell her the news. Malfoy, a few feet away, stopped abruptly to listen and Hermione quickly changed the subject. How much had he heard of what they had said? She didn’t like his expression, so they decided to put him down by sending Harry a note warning him of the change of plans and keeping an eye on him during the whole break.

“Don’t you two have better things to do than stay in my way?” he asked when it was almost time to go back to class. Hermione infinitely regretted not being able to see the egg hatch -after all, when would she ever be able to see something like that again?- but it was necessary that someone kept that worm away from Hagrid’s illicit business or she was sure he would report him, and what his father could’ve done, once he found out about the matter, was out of what Hermione could’ve imagined, but according to Pansy it would surely have been bad enough to have Hagrid fired and put even the principal in serious trouble. After all, Hermione knew very well how dragons were a serious business for wizards, especially since hiding their presence from the Muggles was no small task, so much so that there were special forces dealing with the matter, like that of one in which Ron’s older brother worked, in Romania.

“We’re not here for you, self-centered idiot, we’re just listening to Flint’s fundamental teachings about Quidditch, isn’t that Hermione?” Pansy answered, nudging her to get her attention.

“Obviously.” Hermione replied, clearly not thinking about Quidditch nor anything that has being said during the break. The truth was that she wasn’t even concentrating on the egg, but she was watching Adrian, who was chatting with Graham Montague and Peregrine Derrick on the other side of the corridor.

“You won’t really think he could like you.” Malfoy hissed, making her turn again.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Malfoy?” she asked, picking up her bag, ready to go to the next class. “Do you care because you like me or do you have a crush on Pucey?”

Everyone burst out laughing, and Pansy and Hermione walked towards the Transfiguration classroom.

“Do you think we could go to Hagrid at the end of classes?” Pansy asked as they took their seats. Hermione glanced sideways at Malfoy, who glared at her. She still didn’t trust him and she was sure they hadn’t fully dispelled his suspicions, so they postponed at the next morning, before breakfast. When they finally saw the black creature, they realized that it wasn’t as small as they had expected, and that the nostrils were already beginning to give off puffs of smoke that greatly worried Hermione.

“I decided to call him Norbert,” said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with shining eyes, with the same pride of a mother watching her child take the first steps.

“He’s out of his mind.” Harry whispered in Hermione’s ear, making her giggle. Pansy gave them a strange look, but soon after she focused on the problem, which was the fact that within two weeks the little creature would be as big as the hut.

“Besides,” she remarked, casting a suspicious glance over the curtains “Malfoy could still discover it. We tried to convince him that there’s nothing important here and Hermione distracted him very well” she explained, making her blush to the tips of her ears “but I am convinced that he has no intention of giving up.”

Harry cast a questioning look at Hermione but the girl ignored him, confirming her friend’s hypothesis.

“Why are you here, then?” Ron, the Gryffindors still less inclined to have them around, probably because of the great prejudice that persisted in his family, asked. Pansy was about to answer him unkindly but Hermione preceded her, in a much calmer way. Given his upsetting aversion towards them, she had documented about his family, discovering that both his uncles had been killed by two Death Eaters during the first Wizarding War and everyone knew the majority of the You-Know-Who’s supporters were from that house and although Hermione wanted to remind him that she certainly couldn’t be a blood supremacist, digging up certain subjects was always painful and would’ve done nothing but worsen their relationships.

“We go, but if I were you I would consider asking for your brother’s help to solve this matter.” said Hermione to Ron, standing up, and as soon as they were gone, she explained to Pansy what was Charlie’s occupation during all the way back.

“Are you telling me that there’s a cool Weasley and Ron kept it from us all this time?” Pansy asked, once they reached the dorm.

“Two, actually.” Hermione corrected her. “The older works as a curse breaker for Gringott.” she explained, before slamming badly against Adrian Pucey’s chest, who grabbed her by the shoulders before she could fall, landing straight on her ass. Hermione tried at least to say a dozen words all together, in a vain attempt to apologize, but when he smiled, a smile so sweet that Hermione could only compare it to Gilderoy Lockhart’s, she even forgot how to make meaningless sounds and stunned looked at him.

“Did you get hurt?” he asked her, and only when Hermione shook her head imperceptibly, sure that she wouldn’t fall, he let her go.

“We,” he said, alluding to two boys behind him, who greeted the two newcomers respectively waving and nodding, “are going to the Quidditch pitch for a couple of shots before dinner, do you want to come?”

Hermione, still unable to respond, remained silent and the boy had to take her reluctance as fear, so he also suggested that they can just watch, if they could be interested, but Pansy hardly let him finish before interrupting to tell him that they absolutely wanted to participate.

“Flint already thinks all the girls are useless, if we exclude ourselves, we’ll never be able to join the team.” she replied, and taking Hermione’s hand, who continued to watch astonished first Adrian and then her friend, they followed the three boys to the broom closet.


	9. Asked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione devises a plan to get rid of Norbert but Adrian asks her out and things get complicated

The following week was slow. On Wednesday night, Ron was bitten by the dragon as he tried to help Hagrid feed him and it wouldn’t have been a big deal if the following afternoon he hadn’t had to go to the infirmary because, evidently, Norbert's fangs were poisoned and his hand became of an ugly green color. The only positive note was that Charlie replied to his letter saying that he couldn’t come personally to pick up the dragon, to Pansy's extreme regret, but that two of his friends would be passing by at midnight on Saturday. Obviously, Ron managed to make even that simple mission a problem, since Malfoy had gone to the infirmary to tease him with the excuse of borrowing a book and he had taken away exactly the one Ron had put the letter into.

"I knew he wouldn't give up!" exclaimed Hermione, but by then it was too late to change the plan as they certainly had no time to send another owl to Charlie.

"Can't Hagrid handle it?" suggested Pansy. "After all, the dragon is his."

Obviously she wasn’t wrong, but nobody, not even the headmaster, knew of Norbert's presence so they had to do it, since they would’ve gone unnoticed under the Invisibility Cloak.

"I’ll go with Harry.” said Hermione. “But you have to keep Malfoy busy.” concluded, speaking to Pansy, and thought the girl didn’t seem very happy to be excluded from the direct action she accepted, aware she was the only one who could manage to deal with Malfoy without arousing further suspicion. So they went to Hagrid to tell him everything but they could only speak from the window, while Thor, sitting outside with his bandaged tail, looked at them sadly.

"I won't let you in," he explained, "because Norbert is in mood for spite. But I know how to deal with him."

When they told him about the letter, his eyes filled with tears, but perhaps it could’ve been because the little dragon, who, with only his tail’s force, made the hut’s walls shake, had just bitten his legs. If they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do, they could feel pity for their weird friend. On their way to the dormitory, the girls met Adrian and his friends who returned from Quidditch training and before Hermione could slip in some empty corridor without being noticed, the boy approached her with one of his wide smiles and asked her if she had anything to do on Saturday after dinner. It was Pansy who answered for her, saying that she wasn’t busy, so the boy suggested to take a walk together. Hermione didn’t know whether to accept or not: would she be able to return in time to help Harry? Not that it seemed to matter, as Pansy accepted and before Hermione could realize it, the boy gave her appointment for nine p.m. at the Entrance Hall.

"But I promised to help Harry..." Hermione whispered, when she was able to speak again. What would she say to Adrian, if every time she saw him she behaved like a fool?

"Hermione, this is a date with Adrian Pucey, there are girls much older than us who would kill to have one and you can't miss this chance because Hagrid decided to keep a dragon and get us involved." Pansy told her, stopping suddenly and taking her by the shoulders to force her to look at her. Although sometimes she was a little brutal, her friend was right and after all told her that she would take care of everything, so Hermione's concern shifted from the dragon to how to behave during what, according to Pansy, would’ve been her first date. To discuss this, all the girls gathered, even Sally-Anne, who left Blaise in company of Theodore and George Smith, a silent boy with protruding teeth that Hermione barely remembered having noticed during the Sorting Ceremony and that had never shown any interest in joining Malfoy’s clique. All in all it seemed like a good guy and she thought that if Nott had spent more time with him and less with Malfoy's spoiled ass even his company wouldn't have been so terrible, but that wasn’t the point of the evening, even if, honesty, she couldn’t understand what it was, since none of them had ever had a first date, provided that Sally-Anne didn’t lie.

“It’s totally normal and understandable if you’re nervous.” said Millicent, “You don’t know him, after all, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re doing a presentation. It’s important to be playful…”

“But not too much!” exclaimed Pansy. “Because despite knowing your fame, otherwise he wouldn't have asked for that review program, he could still think you're a fool.”

"And since he invited you out and not one of the Weasley twins, don't cross the line.” ended Lily.

"What do the Weasley twins have to do with it? Does Pucey like boys too?" Sally-Anne asked, although she was there she appeared to have her head somewhere else, probably with Blaise. The thought caused Hermione to feel a pang in her stomach and wondered if it wasn’t the case to postpone the date, especially given how she felt about her classmate, even though she was quite certain that hers wasn’t a crush but she simply missed him as a friend.

"Obviously Pucey likes boys too, what universe are you from? Anyway, that's not the point..." Pansy answered, but Hermione's mind was already elsewhere. If he really liked boys too, he certainly had a lot more choice and there were certainly people better suited to him and his interests than she was, since she knew very little about Quidditch, of whom he seemed very passionate. So she suggested to her friends that they teach her everything they knew, and although Millicent was a real duffer with her broom, she told her several interesting things, until Lily resolved the situation by using an appeal spell on a book named Quidditch Through the Ages, that, although it wasn’t very big, according to the girl it contained everything there was to know about that sport. So the small group, instead of dissolving, began to consult it as if it were Witch Weekly and they didn't stop until they ended it, of course taking breaks to have tea and hot chocolate, along with a couple of cookies to munch on, kindly offered by the kitchen’s house elves.

"Are they always so kind?" asked Millicent, who had grabbed a double serving of biscuits, before going to bed.

"Obviously, it's their job." replied Pansy. "Don't you have one at home?" she asked, as if it were not only obvious but necessary, but the girl shook her head.

"Strange though," Lily commented, "how the three of you moved casually through the castle during the night."

The girls froze at the memory of the three-headed dog, but Millicent made another appreciation on the cookies with the chocolate chips that seemed to distract her quite well. When the last candle was extinguished, all three remained to meditate for a long time. They should’ve paid more attention, even with their friends.


	10. Friends Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes peace with Blaise but in the process she risks losing Pansy

Hermione ran up the hill, hoping Adrian wouldn’t follow her, her eyes wet from the tears. She had been just a fool, blind even before the evidence; yet Malfoy, though in his usual rough ways, had warned her! He just couldn’t believe that this was all Pansy’s plan, a machination for what? She couldn’t have studied that plan just to make her happy, also because she _had_ to know that it would do nothing but make her angry and disappointed, there had to be a second goal which, at the moment, overwhelmed by emotions, she just couldn’t imagine. Not that she wanted to think about her, or anybody else, when she crashed into a chest a little too large to be that of a boy her age. When she looked up and met Blaise’s eyes, the boy didn’t hesitate a second to squeeze her in an embrace that probably sent Sally-Anne on a rampage as she moved away indignantly. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Blaise asked, but she shook her head, so the boy practically dragged her to the common room, where he wrapped her in a thick woolen blanket that had seen better days and brought her some hot tea. In the beginning it was only he who spoke, but after a couple of hours Hermione also began to tell him what she had done when they weren’t friends anymore, carefully avoiding to mention Pansy or her crush on Adrian, things that at the moment made her feel a pang in the stomach. Blaise seemed to notice it and asked no further questions, which Hermione was grateful for, but inquired as to why she refused to join him and Sally-Anne a few months earlier.

“It was my way of apologizing, using her as a peacemaker, but she told me that you had declined the offer so I thought you didn’t mind being my friend.”

Hermione was incredulous: she had never received that invitation, which, perhaps combined with Pansy’s betrayal, led her to the conclusion that that night she hadn’t lost a single friend but two, something that was silently accepted by the whole house, not to mention that Pansy and Draco had suddenly become public enemies for making Slytherin lose a hundred points, the same thing that had also happened to Gryffindor. Suppressing the doubt that Harry might’ve something to do with the Pucey hoax, she asked him immediately after lunch, before he could escape as he had done at breakfast, what had happened, too worried that someone had discovered the dragon and the whole plan to save Hagrid from a bad trial had gone awry. He reassured her that Norbert had been taken into custody by Charlie’s friends as planned and no one had discovered his presence at Hogwarts but didn’t go into much detail, fleeing before a group of Slytherin could thank him for making them pass at the top of the ranking , although by very little margin, since Draco and Pansy had also taken part in that social disaster. Once they became two outcasts, Pansy and Draco got very close, although the former also continued to hang out with Harry and Ron, to the extreme displeasure of the younger Weasley brother. Hermione didn’t speak to the two Gryffindors again until one afternoon she and Harry decided to go to the library to study together. The boy was trying to get her to ask Pansy for a clarification when they heard Quirrell’s plaintive voice from one of the classrooms. He was sobbing and seemed to beg someone, but neither of them could hear who was threatening him.

“Maybe he’s just crazy,” said Harry once the professor was out in a hurry, pale and intent on getting the turban back in the right direction, but he still wanted to come in to validate his theory. Hermione imagined that he had underestimated it only because he had promised himself not to meddle in the affairs of others anymore, so it was she who spoke to Ron, in whose eyes the light of the adventure had returned to shine.

“You should go to Dumbledore.” Pansy intruded, extinguishing the boy’s enthusiasm. Hermione knew she was right but had no intention of admitting it and they also had no evidence against Snape, which Harry was so convinced he wanted to accuse, although she too was very perplexed after what happened on Halloween.

“Who do you think they will believe, knowing that we can’t stand him?” Harry asked, and Hermione smiled victoriously at Pansy, who seemed to get angrier every moment.

“Actually Dumbledore might think that we made up everything to get him fired and Finch will never help us: he is too close to Snape and for him more students are sent home the better. I can’t risk it, if I was expelled my mother would die for a heartbreak and Hermione shouldn’t to it too, as it’s well known that there are people here who are waiting for nothing but an excuse to throw mud on the Muggleborns.” Ron commented.

"I pull myself out.” Pansy hastened to say, and was about to leave when something seemed to paralyze her. Everyone turned in unison and Hermione met Blaise’s big dark eyes.

“I was looking for you, but I see that here we talk about things of a certain importance.” he said, moving forward as if the others weren’t there.

“Perfect, another Slytherin,” muttered Ron, but neither girl took the offense too focused on the exchange of hostile looks between Harry and Blaise.

“It’s none of your business.” Harry hissed, angrier than Hermione would’ve expected. He knew that they had come back to talk, that they could even call themselves friends again, and how much he had helped her after what Pansy had done and for which she hadn’t yet apologized, contrary to what Pucey had tried to do, unsuccessfully since Hermione had managed to avoid him not too subtly. Sure, Harry hadn’t seemed too happy with the news, but enough time had passed for Hermione to believe he accepted it.

“If it’s Hermione’s business is mine too” he replied, without the slightest trace of embarrassment. The girl blushed a little at the demonstration of loyalty, which, however, seemed to work since, although without too much enthusiasm, Blaise was also updated on the facts, but only the important ones, until Pansy, on detention night, ran into the common room now immersed in the darkness, waking them up abruptly, and explained them everything that had happened in the forest while, unable to sit, she strode up and down in front of the fire, trembling slightly. Hermione didn’t even let her finish and threw her arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly.

"You could’ve died,” said Hermione in a broken voice, so faintly that for a moment she feared her friend hadn’t heard her. After a silence that seemed endless, Pansy held her tight and whispered, “I know, but it didn’t happen, so now let’s fix this before Harry and Ron get in more serious trouble than a detention or a dragon’s bite.”

“A dragon’s bite?” asked Blaise, perplexed.

“I promise we’ll tell you everything later.” said Hermione, now convinced that keeping secrets would only lead to pain. “But now help us solve this situation.”


End file.
